


Après Eux

by Nabielka



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/pseuds/Nabielka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It is as though they have vanished into thin air.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Après Eux

“My scouts covered the entire country, and found no trace. Moreover, I am assured by the Husky Squads and King Triton’s messenger, that there has been no sign of Their Majesties anywhere within the boundaries of Narnia. It is as though they have vanished into thin air. That, of course, is possible only for Aslan, and therefore I would propose a discrete aerial search beyond the borders,” said the raven Sallowpad. 

“Preposterous!” Peridan exclaimed. “Why, they could not have taken them unseen, and, to our knowledge, for no real purpose. For we have received neither notes of ransom nor rumours of their deaths, and I say to you, that had any foreigners taken them we would have had word of it since.” 

Having spoken thus he leaned back in his chair, and rested his arms on the armrests, his rings catching the light as he moved. He wore several, both hereditary ones and those signifying the high offices which he held in the realm, and the high esteem in which he was held by its rulers. “Moreover, were our efforts to be discovered, we may well find ourselves embroiled in yet another war, which, I believe we will all agree, is the last thing we require at the present time.” 

“I’m sure you are likely to think so,” murmured Mr Beaver, not quite under his breath.

“I am sure,” Peridan replied in a carefully calm voice, “that I have no idea what you mean.” He reached out for his glass of wine and took a deep sip, his gaze fixed on the beavers on the other side of the table all the while. At the same time, he noticed that Tumnus was avoiding his eyes, and that Sallowpad was avidly examining the pattern on her cushion. 

Mr Beaver rubbed at his snout with his paw, and looked vaguely sheepish. However, when no one else spoke, he defended his comment as if he had indeed intended on being heard. “Mark my words, there’s no two ways about it, the loyalty of foreigners to our country must always remain under question, especially at a time like this.”

“Would you include Their Majesties in that?”

As Mr Beaver spluttered indignantly, his wife laid a conciliatory paw on his arm, and said, “Now, I am sure we can all understand how difficult a time this is for us all, and therefore how important it is for us not to fall into quarrels with each other.” She cast a firm look at her husband, who nodded in agreement. 

“Do it,” said Tumnus, too loudly, “but send lone scouts to avoid suspicion. They’ll look just like any birds then.” 

Perturbed, Peridan watched as Sallowpad merely nodded before flying across the room and then out of the window. Her flight took her over the four empty chairs usually used by Their Majesties, and his heart clenched in grief and worry again, for despite their faults, the only Narnia he had ever known had been ruled by them. 

It seemed perverse to watch Tumnus sitting here giving orders, for it was said that Narnia had never been right unless ruled over by humans. Apparently other species found this reconcilable with their self-respect, a fact which Peridan had never understood, and was not likely to argue against due to the natural advantage it gave him. 

“Am I the only one wondering, Master Tumnus, why you consider yourself in charge of this committee? The royals have never appointed you to such a task.” He did not mean it particularly unkindly, for Peridan had considered Tumnus a friend, once, to the extent that he _had_ friends. But the man was more at home with his books and his pipes, and not up to the task of ruling a kingdom.

Tumnus looked at him then, and for the first time Peridan noticed just how old and tired he looked. Over the years they had known each other, the faun’s bright hair had become steadily streaked with white, but he had never looked so grey and weary as he did in the current light. “I was their trusted advisor, my lord, and Queen Lucy’s closest friend since the very first day she came to Narnia.” As he said this his hand came up to adjust the pipes he wore perennially around his neck. 

There was reproach in his voice, and something akin to anger that might have been hurt. Peridan did not allow that to deter him; it was politics after all, in which everything must be an advantage. “But let us not forget what you intended when first you met her.”

A shocked silence followed, for such deeds had never been mentioned with the tetrarchs present. 

“You do not know,” began Mrs Beaver with a trembling voice, like the earth that sometimes shook in the lands of the North. “You are not a native Narnian; you may have lived amongst us these past ten years, but that will always be true. You cannot possibly understand what it was like. Even Their Majesties, may Aslan bless them and them to us in safety, could never quite understand, for the threat that the Witch posed to them was greater that that which she posed for ordinary Narnians. 

But the rest of us could not have survived without her during the Long Winter, during which, you must remember, no agricultural produce was possible, and Your Lordship will surely be aware that neither Archenland,” here she inclined her head at Peridan, in a mockery of respect, “nor indeed any other country, had sent any aid to us at all.” 

“And besides,” added her husband, taking advantage of the silence which had followed her words, “even King Edmund was a traitor when he first came to these lands, and yet how he has redeemed himself since!”

“Edmund,” said Peridan briskly, not even noticing that he had dropped the honorific, “was but a child lost in an unknown place with no idea what her food could do until it was far too late.”

“And Aslan forgave him, which ought to be enough for all of you,” said Tumnus in a voice so quiet that they had to lean in to hear it. “And Lucy forgave me, which is almost as good. And they would be ashamed to see us now, quibbling over the past while their country lies under threat.”

Peridan sighed, for the royal siblings had argued amongst themselves too, but thought it prudent not to mention it. He was not, after all, Narnian enough to worship them. 

“Now,” continued the faun, “if we could carry on with some important matters, please. The first issue concerns foreign policy. Yes, including the war,” he added when Mr Beaver opened his mouth to object. “Our ambassador in Calormen is unwell and must return. Do we now dispatch a replacement?”

“We can’t easily spare anybody,” said Mr Beaver, fussing with his whiskers. “Not with the war, not with Their Majesties gone. Why, all our morale will be destroyed, and half our skill with it!” 

“And the cost of maintaining appearances there is simply inordinate, and yet if we are to maintain an envoy, it is unavoidable,” his wife added.

“Which we must do,” Peridan insisted, “for otherwise we shall offend them, and give them pretext to attack us. We cannot wilfully open ourselves up to such a threat, especially not right now.”

“So his recommendation revolves around the opinions of other nations,” commented Mr Beaver, not bothering to stifle a chortle. “How shocking that must be for us all!”

“Cease, He-Beaver,” said Tumnus, and his tone brooked no argument. 

Outside the sound of hoofs could be heard, first faintly and then loudly, and a few moments later Oreius trotted into the chamber. He had removed his helmet, but not his breastplate, scratched where he had avoided wounds. 

Tumnus rose to welcome him, managing to knock his walking stick to the ground as he did so. Since no one moved to pick it up for him, he was forced to pull it closer with his hoof and bend down slowly to do so himself, straining his back. When he had caught it in his hand, he straightened, his cheeks burning with humiliation, for though he was no longer as young a faun as he had once been, he knew very well that his father had never had to use a wooden stick in order to walk. 

After saluting them, Oreius spoke of the ongoing war against Telmar and of the provinces they had captured. But he did not seem proud or jubilant, but as serious as Peridan had ever seen him. “We may yet fail, for Their Majesties, under whom we have won such victories, are no longer with us, nor do we have a clear succession.”

Peridan twitched. 

Oreius continued, unaware, “Our current unhappy state will, however, must embolden the Telmarines who have in years passed much feared Their Majesties. It may therefore be advisable to sign a peace treaty now, while we are still victorious, than to wait in the hopes of achieving more.”

“Surely they would then see our present weakness, and take advantage of it?” protested Mr Beaver with all the confidence and surety endemic amongst civilians. 

Oreius inclined his head to him, and acknowledged that there was indeed a risk of that. “However, were the tide to turn, it would be even worse for us. This way, we may yet annex the conquered provinces, despite their inevitable proposals of a white peace.”

“You must not accept it, for that would be a betrayal to what the High King would have desired for his realm,” decreed Mr Beaver. 

Giving him a brief look akin to scorn, Oreius turned to Tumnus, and when he remained silent, turned around and left without answering.

“Now, should we adjourn for lunch?” Mr Beaver asked, his mood bolstered by the idea of food.

“I am sure that Their Majesties would be delighted to know you consider your stomach more important than their kingdom’s welfare,” said Peridan dryly. 

Both Beavers bristled.

“It’s hard to think on an empty stomach,” Mrs Beaver protested. 

_For some, it’s hard to think at all_ , thought Peridan in distaste, but he rose immediately to his feet, to be sure of leaving the chamber first, like a king would.


End file.
